


If I Could Grant You Peace of Mind

by icandrawamoth



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hamilton lyric fic titles are so passe but I don't even care, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Reunions, Self-Doubt, Trust, Trust Issues, post-Lusankya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 15:02:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17205596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: “Why do you look so nervous? I know we've been apart for a while, but...”“It's not you,” Tycho tells him immediately. He wants to take Wedge into his arms, press the assurance into his hair, into his mouth, but he stops himself.After Lusankya, Tycho doesn't trust himself around Wedge.





	If I Could Grant You Peace of Mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aphorisnt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphorisnt/gifts).



> For Betsy, who commented on [Safety Measure](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15472893) about how Tycho's fear of his possible programming might make it hard for him to be around Wedge. <3

When the door to his holding cell is opened and Tycho is allowed to go free, it takes him a moment to gather himself enough to actually step out. Part of his mind reels, thinking it's a test or a cruel joke, that they'll change their minds at the last moment and make him stay.

But they don't. There are no cuffs, no stun blasts, no running or shouting. A guard leads him down a hall but doesn't stare or push. Then at the end, in a receiving room, is Wedge.

His concerned brown eyes instantly take Tycho in head to foot, and then he smiles. Tycho hasn't seen the expression on him since he returned, and it's breathtaking. Then, before he can say anything, Wedge is striding forward and pulling him firmly into an embrace.

Tycho allows himself one moment to be weak. He's so weak. After eight months of terror and pain and isolation, he needs Wedge's arms around him more than he's ever needed anything.

It's so, so good. His partner is warm and solid, and Tycho can _feel_ the love radiating off of him. He holds Tycho close, and Tycho listens to his breaths, the way emotion makes them short, and his heart beating so close to Tycho's own.

Then Tycho makes himself pull away, because he can't. He _can't_. It's too dangerous; the risk of some vestige of Isard's programming having remained is too much. As much as he's been looking forward to this moment, so much of him has dreaded it, too.

Wedge tilts his head a little in confusion as he steps back but doesn't say anything. He simply slips his hand into Tycho's as they listen to the Intelligence officer's final parting words, and Tycho can't deny him that.

 

An hour later, they're in the tiny, dimly-lit hotel room Wedge is renting. He's seated on the edge of a chair, watching as Tycho stands tensely at the end of the room's lone bed.

“I wish I'd had somewhere nicer to bring you back to,” Wedge says, filling the awkward silence. “You deserve that much, after everything.”

“This is fine,” Tycho says distantly, eyes roving around the room before landing back on Wedge. He's alone in a private room with Wedge, one bed, and he's so far from being able to enjoy it.

Wedge stands again and approaches slowly. He lays a hand on Tycho's arm, frowning when he flinches under it. “Why do you look so nervous? I know we've been apart for a while, but...”

“It's not you,” Tycho tells him immediately. He wants to take Wedge into his arms, press the assurance into his hair, into his mouth, but he stops himself.

“What is it?” Wedge asks. “Tell me, Tycho.”

Tycho looks away again, closing his eyes for a long moment. “It's Isard,” he says softly. “What she might have done to me.”

Wedge's frown deepens. “I know she hurt you...I don't care if I might be able to see it.”

Tycho chuckles brokenly, thinking of the news scars covering his body. “I know you're not that shallow, Wedge. That's not what I mean.” He presses a palm against his temple. “I mean what she did in here. She could have changed me.”

“But she didn't.” Wedge squeezes his arm, gaze intent. “The doctors cleared you. They didn't find any trace.”

“Nor did they in any previous cases,” Tycho reminds him. “And the other Lusankya prisoners did horrible things. Wedge, I could be next. And, I-” He cuts himself off, pulling away from Wedge and turning, putting a few steps between them. “My concerns in that direction are all wrong,” he confesses to the wall.

Behind him, Wedge doesn't move and doesn't ask him to elaborate, though Tycho can nearly feel his concern and confusion.

“I should be worried about what I might do the New Republic or to some high-raking officer or politician.” He lets out a short breath. “But I'm just terrified of what I might do to you. If I hurt you, or, gods forbid, killed you...I couldn't live with myself, Wedge. I couldn't.” Tycho blinks rapidly, still facing the wall, forcing down tears.

Behind him, Wedge takes a hesitant step, then another. “You won't,” he says softly.

Tycho doesn't turn. “You can't know that. No one can. I should stay away from you. From everyone. It would be safer.”

Wedge touches his shoulder, and he flinches again. “Tycho, look at me.”

Tycho tries to refuse, but then Wedge's other hand is on him, gently turning him around, and he finds himself looking into gentle brown eyes. Wedge cups his cheek and draws him in, resting their foreheads together. “I trust you, Tycho. None of what you went through changes that. My life has been in your hands so many times, and you've never let me down.”

Tycho struggles to hold onto a sob of frustration. Still, his voice is low and shaky when he answers, “That's exactly the problem. Even right now, you're vulnerable around me, Wedge. If I snapped, I could kill you before you even thought twice.”

This close, he can't see Wedge's tiny smile, but he can hear it in his voice. “I think you're underestimating my ability to defend myself, love.”

Tycho jerks away. “You're not being serious.”

Wedge catches his arm before he can get far. “I am, Tycho.”

Tycho looks at him, and he knows he's telling the truth. He can see the earnestness in his expression and the genuine concern. Tycho lets out a breath and sinks onto the bed, suddenly so very tired.

“Listen to me.” Wedge sits down beside him, trailing his hand down Tycho's arm in a caress before curling their fingers together. “I trust you, Tycho. I'll keep saying it, and I won't change my mind. The doctors say Isard wasn't able to alter you. I believe it. You've agreed yourself.”

Tycho looks away. He has said those words, yes, but he never believed them as much as he wanted to. That lingering fear, the way he can never know for _sure_ until it's too late, can't just be dismissed.

“Let me put this way. Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” Tycho answers without thought.

Wedge smiles. “Do you trust me more than you trust yourself?”

Tycho gives a hollow little chuckle. “Have you even been following this conversation, Wedge?”

“That's what I thought. Tycho, look at me.” Once Tycho has met his eye, he goes on. “I understand that you can't trust yourself right now. But you know me. You know I can make my own judgments of things, make decisions, and deal with the consequences.” He touches Tycho's cheek again. “I want you near me. That's the decision I'm making. And should anything happen to me because of it, that was _my_ choice. Can do you do that for me?”

Tycho's hand lands over Wedge's, presses him just a little bit closer. “You're playing me like a vibrano.”

“I'm trying to help you.”

“I know.” Tycho turns his head, just enough to press a kiss to Wedge's palm. “I'm just so afraid of hurting you.”

“Let me not sound selfish when I ask this, Tycho. Be honest: how much would having to keep yourself away from me hurt _you_?”

Tycho looks away, his heart squeezing at the thought of being alone again. “A lot.”

“Then don't stay away,” Wedge says as if it's that simple. “You don't deserve to be hurt anymore. Not by Isard's hand and not by your own.”

“Wedge...” Tycho's voice trembles.

“I meant what I said. Anything that happens is on _my_ head, not yours. Stay with me.”

Tycho slumps, his eyes sliding closed. The pain of being in a position to hurt Wedge or knowing he's safe but never being near him again is like a vibroblade in his gut. What a choice.

“Tycho?”

His eyes flicker open again, and Wedge is there, gaze deep and intense. “It would hurt me, too, if you stayed away.”

Tycho clutches his hand, lets out a shaky sound.

“And maybe this is exactly what Isard wanted,” Wedge goes on, relentlessly gentle. “Knowing that even if she couldn't actually convert you, she'd have you doubting yourself. She'd have done this to us.” His face creases. “She's still torturing you, even now.”

Tycho can't bite back the shocked little sound that drags from him, because he hadn't thought of it that way, and Wedge is exactly right.

“I can't let her win,” Tycho manages.

“No. You're so strong Tycho. You won't. I'm here; we can fight this. Together.”

Tycho can only nod as he clutches at Wedge's hand. He's so weak. He was never going to stay away, was he? Isard knows him too well. But he pushes that thought away violently because he _can't_ deal with it anymore right now.

“I know this isn't over,” Wedge tells him. “I know I didn't fix all your doubts just by saying all this stuff, and I know you'll worry and want to talk about it more.” He smiles at Tycho. “And I want you to talk to me about this. About everything. You don't have to hide from me.”

“I love you so much,” is all Tycho can manage then.

“I love you, too, Tycho. More than anything, no matter what.” Wedge smiles again, eyes shining. “Now, can I kiss you?”

“Please,” Tycho whispers, because he suddenly wants that so, so badly.

Wedge cups his face in both hands and leans in, their lips meeting with a gentleness and love that feels so normal, feels like a welcome home, a rededication to them, a promise of never-ending support all in one. It doesn't vanish all of Tycho's worries, it doesn't change anything that happened to him, but little by little it relaxes some of the anxiety in his gut.

“Let go for me, Tycho,” Wedge murmurs, and Tycho does. He lets everything go, clearing his mind of all but the way they touch, the love and comfort that flows between them. He never could say no to Wedge.


End file.
